


The Judge (Set me Free)

by purpleeyesandbowties



Category: EOS 10 (Podcast)
Genre: (who belongs to roomfullofdaisies/macremae), Addiction, Angst, Drug Use, Ellie Dalias - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i made a sad backstory for Ryan sorry, ryan has touch aversion under specific circumstances, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing was, Ryan hadn’t lied to Jane when she asked him about Osolong— his association of men and sex wasn’t very good. But there was more to that than she’d assumed. Most people just thought Ryan was straight—he was pretty sure his own mother didn’t know he wasn’t.  And, well. There had been a man. Just one. But that was a long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Judge (Set me Free)

**Author's Note:**

> Ellie Dalias is Ryan's twin sister and roomfullofdasies/macremae's oc. im just borrowing her!  
> warnings for drug use and addiction. this is Ryan's backstory after all. warning also for an oc's death by overdose.  
> title taken from The Judge by 21 pilots

The thing was, Ryan hadn’t lied to Jane when she asked him about Osolong— his association of _men_ and _sex_ wasn’t very good. But there was more to that than she’d assumed. Most people just thought Ryan was straight—he was pretty sure his own mother didn’t know he wasn’t.  And, well. There had been a man. Just one. But that was a long time ago.

 

One morning early in the rotation Ryan woke up feeling like there was something vibrating under his skin. It was unpleasant, unexpected, but he’d dealt with worse in the past. Still, he sent a text to Ellie, asking her to check in with him later in the day. He wasn’t too proud to ask his sister for help when he thought he needed it. She called him immediately.

“Ryan, what’s wrong?” she asked, worry coloring her voice, and Ryan felt guilty because he only ever seemed to contact her when he needed help. He described the itch, rating it on a four or five on the scale she’d invented for him. (It went from ‘I’m being a little bitch baby’ to ‘Paris Incident’).

“And I can’t figure out why. It’s been a long time since I felt this bad,” he finished.

Ellie didn’t answer for a long moment. Finally she sighed. Her voice gentle, she said, “Ry. Do you remember what today is?”

“No?” Ryan said, wandering over to his calendar. He absently ran his finger down the row, landing on the date. Slowly, dropped his arm. “Oh. That’s why.”

Ellie made a small sound of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Ryan. Do you need me to come to EOS 10? I can.”

“No.” Ryan shook his head. Ellie was so busy. She didn’t need to spend her time babysitting him. Not when he could handle this on his own. He _could._

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”

“I’m sure, Ellie,” he assured her. She sighed again. He could hear her checking her comm. Probably seeing if she had time to come over anyway.

“Okay. I’ll check in with you later, okay? And please, Ry. Don’t hesitate to call if you need me.”

Ryan promised he would. She reminded him that she loved him and hung up. Ryan sat down heavily on his bed.

Well. No wonder he felt like shit. His body always seemed to remember the worst days of his life even when his mind didn’t. His subconscious was a bitch like that.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes for a long moment, hoping to ward off the dull headache already building up. After five minutes, he made himself get up and start moving.

“Coffee,” he decided. Maybe that would help.

\--

Work sucked. Every noise seemed magnified, every patient more annoying than the last. The vague notion of a headache had bloomed into a full-blown migraine by 1500 hours. He sent Jane to get all necessary medications for his patients from the pharmacy. It’s not that he didn’t trust himself but…it was easier to just not deal with that situation. After the fifth or so trip, Jane turned on him. “Okay, Ryan? What the hell, man? I know you just got that shiny new promotion last week but that doesn’t make me your personal lackey. Do your own damn supply runs!”

Before Ryan could say anything, Doctor Urvidian, passing them in the hallway, said, “Nurse Johns, as your—and Doctor Dalias’—superior, I’m telling you to listen to Doctor Dalias. File a formal complaint if it’s really that much trouble.”

“Okay, jeez. Can’t any of you ask nicely?” Jane grumbled. Urvidian gave her his best fake smile.  “Please,” he simpered. Jane narrowed her eyes at him for a moment.

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but that’ll do for now.”

Jane left for the sixth supply run and Ryan let out a sigh of relief. Tiredly, he said, “Thank you. I just….”

Urvidian, still studying his patient charts, said, “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

 “I’m trying my best.”  
“Some days, that’s all we can do.”

\--

Ryan collapsed on his bed the second he got back to his room. He groaned, dragging a pillow over his head to block out the light. The migraine hadn’t let up. It was worse, actually. The crawling of his skin had gotten worse, too. But he decided the best thing would be to avoid pain meds. He didn’t need that tonight. His head was hell enough without medicinal interference.

He lay there for a long while, letting the now-familiar melancholy seep into his bones. His thoughts drifted to the day, this day, now more than fifteen rotations in the past. It hurt, it still hurt, but he knew from experience that allotting himself a certain amount of time to think and to grieve helped him face, as Urvidian would put it, ‘the harsh light of another day’.

A sudden noise from across the room pulled him unpleasantly from where he was, half dozing, half lost in memories.

“Jesus, Jac, knock next time,” he muttered, pulling the pillow off his head and sitting up. He squinted at the man standing in front of him.

Akmazian’s face creased in confusion. “Who now?” he asked.

Ryan sat up, now fully awake. He shook his head, clearing away the last of the cobwebs of memory. Of course it wasn’t…  
“What are you doing here?” he asked. He put a hand against his forehead. He’d sat up too quickly, and the room was wavering alarmingly.

Instead of answering his question, Akmazian crossed the room in a few long strides and reached to put his hand on Ryan’s forehead. “Are you alright, doctor? You look sick.”

Ryan flinched away from Akmazian’s hand instinctively. Instantly, he regretted it because Akmazian withdrew his hand and clenched it in his other, looking guilty.

“I apologize, Doctor Dalias.”

Ryan shook his head gingerly. “No, you didn’t—it’s just.”

He sighed. “I never know how to feel about you.”

Maybe it was the headache, or the disorientation, or maybe the just the weight of old ghosts, but Ryan suddenly didn’t feel like keeping any of it bottled up anymore. He gestured for Akmazian to sit on the bed, moving to lean against the headboard. Akmazian sat down cautiously, making sure to keep distance between them.

“I’m going to talk. Please listen until I’m done.”

Akmazian nodded wordlessly. Ryan settled his hands in his lap and began.

“The thing is—if I let myself think about it, I think I would like you. You’re—you’re—I don’t know what you are. But it’s been a while since I’ve felt….anything positive….for a man.”

Ryan watched as Akmazian opened his mouth, remembered himself, and closed it again. He nodded, indicating Ryan should continue.

“Yeah, I like guys. Well. In theory I do. I haven’t for a while. Not since Jac.”

And this was the tough part. There were only two other people in the world who knew about Jac. Ellie knew, because after all the shit she’d gone through on his behalf, she deserved to know. The other was some nameless priest that Ryan had found, just a year out of rehab. The woman had offered a listening ear for his troubles and he took it. She had sat in silence for a solid hour as Ryan spilled every dark secret he’d ever had. Afterwards, she said, “I was going to offer to buy you a drink but….how about a hot meal instead?” Ryan had parted ways without ever knowing her name, but always quietly grateful he had run into her.

And now, he was telling Akmazian. They were friends, Ryan supposed, through ‘friends’ seemed like a pale comparison to what they had. If he had to name it, he’d say that Akmazian was his best friend.

Ryan leaned back and started his story.

It was in between his second and third bouts of rehab. He’d run away from the facility again. He knew that his father wouldn’t bail him out when he inevitably landed in jail again. But he didn’t really care. Another second under the harsh buzzing lights in his shared room, one more day of condescending ‘counselors’ and jackass ‘companions’, and he might just take a dive off the top of the building. Anywhere was better than there.

He knew better than to go back to his mom’s house again. Paris was off limits. They’d find him too quick. There was a planet similar to earth in a nearby star system that would work. The capital city was perfect for people like him. Supplies seem to originate there, so there was always plenty to find, if you knew who to ask. The only drawback was the streets themselves.

His first night there, he got into a fistfight over a gram of Klipton in an abandoned alleyway. A stupid score, but he hadn’t had a high in three months and at that point he would have settled for anything.

The man he fought was quick, strong as hell and determined. But Ryan was better. After a five minute scuffle, he slammed the guy against a brick wall, pinning him with his legs dangling an inch off the ground. The guy’s glower changed into something else—something hungry.

“Damn. You’re a tough one, ain’t you? Got a slum buddy?”

Ryan blinked, loosening his grip slightly. “A—what?”

The guy chuckled, the movement flicking a drop of blood off his mouth. “You must be new. Look around. No one’s alone here. You don’t run alone unless you’re itching to end up in a gutter. You and me, though? Together, we could run these streets.”

“What’s in it for me?” Ryan asked suspiciously.

“Aside from the privilege of having a neck attached to your body when you wake up? I’ll give you that gram—and a lot more.”

Suddenly, disarmingly, he winked. “And I’ll suck you off. Though that I’d do for free, babe.”

Ryan choked in surprise, dropping the guy completely. He bounced up, grinning, and stuck out his hand.

“So what do you say? You need a slum buddy, I need a slum buddy. It seems that we have common interest.”

Ryan studied him carefully. He was tall, strong, and seemed to still have his wits about him. Maybe it would be nice to have someone to watch his back. And—Ryan shifted from foot to foot—he was attractive. Not just the way he looked—though that was undeniable. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew him in. His eyes were full of fire, life, promise.

“Okay,” Ryan said, making a snap decision. He shook his hand. “I’m Ryan.”

“Jac,” the man supplied. “I do believe this could be the start of something beautiful, Ryan. If it’s half as beautiful as you are, we have quite the future ahead of us.”

Jac handed over the gram they’d been fighting over and Ryan eagerly dosed himself up. Jac watched, a sly smile on his lips. “About that last part of my offer….” he ventured. “Whadda say?”

Ryan shrugged, the drug singing through his veins, loosening his muscles. “Sure. It’s been a while.”

Jac smiled again, revealing teeth slightly too sharp to be fully human, and gently backed him into the brick wall. _“Excellent.”_

 --

For three months, they ran the streets of Manhela. They pooled their money, their resources, to get the best they could afford. Ryan could always tell if a dose was laced or diluted or impure. Jac’s charm and charisma managed to land them more than they paid for. Occasionally, they made their own goods and sold it to bring in more money. Ryan never asked where Jac got his money otherwise. It didn’t really matter, as long as they always had enough to cover a stash and a meal. It was good.

Jac found an abandoned basement not far from the center of street life and that’s where they holed up. That was Jac’s one rule. Never use on the streets. Come home first, check in. Make sure the other was safe. They tried to keep from getting high together—someone had to keep watch—but it was hard to abstain. The highs were better on someone else’s lips and the crashes easier to handle when they were wrapped up in each other.

Three months, and Ryan woke up after a long, long trip. He was disoriented, shivering, covered in scars he couldn’t remember the origin of, and in the back of an unfamiliar ship. And sober. For the first time in three months, he was completely sober.

“Shit!” he shouted, scrambling backwards. _Where was Jac?_

“ _'Shit’_ is right,” a female voice said. She sounded tired, frustrated, but also a little bit relieved. He squinted at her in the dim light.

“Ellie?”

Ellie, because of course it was Ellie, crossed her arms, standing in front of him like an angel out of hell.

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s Ellie. _Your sister_. Maybe you remember her?”

Ryan curled in on himself. For three months, he hadn’t thought of anything but himself, Jac, and their scores. Seeing Ellie here brought the rest of the world crashing in. Her, his _parents_ —they must be furious with him. And Ellie, too…

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“You’re _sorry_?” Ellie demanded. She laughed bitterly. “Jesus, Ryan, is that the best you can do? You’re _sorry_? Well, I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry I thought you could handle yourself this time around, I’m sorry you can’t stay in rehab long enough to make a difference, I’m sorry you can’t fucking make yourself stay in a place where you know you’re safe. I’m sorry I went looking for you and I’m sorry I found you buck-ass naked and so far gone I _thought you were dead!_ I’m sorry that you’re such a fuck-up that Mom and Dad refuse to help you anymore. Yeah, Ryan, me too. I’m. _Sorry_.”

Every word was like slap in the face. “El…” he said, voice breaking.

“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Not right now, Ryan.”

They sat in silence for a long time, Ryan fighting off nausea. His fingers twitched, searching for someone who wasn’t there. Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Ellie. There was a guy I…did you see him?”

Ellie clenched her teeth. “I saw him. He was sprawled on top of you. He was either unconscious or dead, and I didn’t stick around to figure out which.”

He wanted to ask more, but her body language indicated that their conversation was over. Again.

\--

He got through rehab this time. Ellie found a small center for habitual rehab patients, run by a friend of a friend. It was obscenely expensive. She worked a full time job and two part time ones just to keep the payments covered. His mom and dad never visited. Ellie did, on the few days off she could scape together.

It took a while, but she eventually forgave him enough to listen to his story. He told her about Jac, about the sheer magnetism that drew him in. About the protection and comfort they offered each other. About the days and nights they spent together, always together, never alone. She listened.

“You love him, don’t you?” she asked, and the breath left Ryan’s body in a rush.

“Yeah. I’ve never loved anyone like I love him.”

“Ryan…” she said gently. “It’s not good for you. He’s not good for you and you’re not good for him. Not like that, on the streets.”

“I know,” he said miserably. Two months in rehab had helped clear his head. It _hadn’t_ been good, what he had with Jac, no matter how good it had felt at the time. That knowledge didn’t stop him from missing him, though. It didn’t stop him from reaching out in the middle of the night, feeling for a body that wasn’t there to soften the shivers and sweats. And it didn’t stop the worry.

Jac was right—Manhela wasn’t a city you faced by yourself. Had Jac found someone else? Or was he going it alone?

Ryan made it through a whole year of rehab. Finally, his sponsor, Lilith, said that he could be released as soon as he felt ready. Truthfully, Ryan didn’t feel ready. But staying in the center was a drain to Ellie’s savings and she had done enough for him.

Ellie offered to let him stay in her apartment until he could regain his footing, but Ryan refused.

“I have to do this alone. I need to know that I can.”

Ellie hugged him. “I understand. But please, be safe.”

“I will.”

He didn’t tell her that he was headed back to Manhela.

\--

And just like that, he was back on the streets. He kept his promise to Ellie, though. It was probably the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, turning down that first dealer who had recognized him.

“Ryan!” the girl exclaimed, genuine relief in her eyes. She was Riderian, with blunt teeth and four arms and something that looked like a tail but wasn’t. They used to team up to make high quality Klipton. Alyan was young, maybe fifteen in human years.  Jac used to joke that she could be his little sister.

“What can I do for you today?” she asked. “Back in the game? Our costumers sure miss your Klipton. Or maybe you’re looking for a score yourself.”

She held out a packet of light green powder.

“No,” Ryan said, clenching his hands into fists. He counted his breaths, letting them out slowly. “I’m just looking for Jac.”

Alyan’s smile dropped. “You….you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” Ryan asked. Ice worked its way through his stomach, up into this throat. Alyan bit her lip, eyes downcast. He grabbed her arms. “What happened to Jac?” he demanded.

“I don’t know! No one knows. He went off the grid just after you did. I’m sorry, Ryan.”

\--

No one knew where Jac was. Ryan scoured Manhela for weeks, looking for a sign of him. At the end of the first month, Ellie showed up on the doorstep of Ryan and Jac’s old safehouse, livid. She marched right up to Ryan and slugged him in the face. He stumbled back under the force of the blow. She grabbed him by the collar.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Ryan! I spent sleepless nights trying to track you down! I worked my ass off to get you into rehab! I worked my ass off to _keep_ you in rehab! And what do you do? The second you’re out of rehab, you’re back on the streets! Well, that’s it. Forget it, Ryan, I’m done. Brother or not, you’re not my fucking problem anymore. I give up.”

She dropped him and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Ryan cried, grabbing her wrist. She yanked it back, taking a deep breath, presumably to start yelling again, but Ryan cut her off.

“Ellie, I’m still clean!”

“You—you’re what?”

 “I’m clean. I swear I am. Ellie, what you did for me….you saved my life. I have to save someone else’s now. I have to save him.”

“You’re looking for Jac,” Ellie said, comprehension dawning. Ryan nodded. Ellie’s face crumpled. She pushed him gently and then buried her face in his shoulder.

“Dammit, Ryan, you really scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said. He knew he’d never be able to say that enough. They stood, holding each other in the basement of a dirty old crackhouse for a long time. When Ellie finally pushed away, her eyes were red but clear.

“Alright then. Let’s go find your boy.”

\--

Jac was curled up in an alleyway. A different alleyway, a different city, but Ryan felt a pang of familiarity. He remembered the first time he’d met Jac’s eyes, wild and hungry and oh, so full of promise. Nearly two years ago by then. And now, the fire had left Jac’s eyes. He was curled in on himself, drenched in sweat and covered in blood. His own or someone else’s, Ryan couldn’t tell.

Ellie cursed and dropped down next to Jac, already reaching for the med kit she had in her bag. Ryan stilled her hand.

“There’s nothing we can do. It’s too late.”

“Ryan! What do you mean it’s too late?”

Ryan gently parted Jac’s lips with his fingers, showing Ellie the swollen tongue inside. “Razorside. It’s deadly when it’s not perfectly distilled. He’ll suffocate before he comes down again.”

He shook his head, pulling away his hand. “Dammit! I told him not to—”

“Ryan?” Jac’s weak, slurred voice asked. Ryan’s hands landed on Jac’s arm, his side. In a quiet, rough voice he said, “Jac. Jac, babe. What the hell? We had a rule.”

Jac coughed, a deep rattle that barely let air through. “I know. Broke it though. Missed you,” he managed.

“I missed you too,” Ryan said, running his hand through Jac’s hair.

“You’re coming to bed tonight, right? I scored some razor. It’s good. You should double check but I’m sure it’s good.”

“Yeah,” Ryan managed, his words coming out strangled. “Yeah, I’ll come home tonight. You sleep till then, okay?”

“Okay.” Jac snuggled down against the wall, his head lying in Ryan’s lap.

Ryan swallowed hard. “Jac? I love you.”

Jac didn’t respond. Ryan shook him gently. “Did you hear me, Jac? Jac?”

Ellie set a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Ryan,” she began, but he shook his head.

 He bent in half, resting his forehead against Jac’s slowly cooling one. “I love you,” he whispered. “I loved you.”

\--

Ryan rested his head against the headboard again. His throat was dry from speaking so long. “Today is the anniversary of the day Jac died.”

 Akmazian cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Ryan.”

Ryan glanced over at him, surprised to see tears in his eyes. Ryan wiped his own eyes, feeling strangely better having told the whole story. “Thanks.”

There really wasn’t much more to say. Ryan sat up, stretching. Faux-casually, he said, “I tried to date again, you know. A few years later. I did pretty well, too—I got all the way through the dinner and a movie, right up to the doorstep drop-off. He kissed me and all I could feel was Jac’s lips, all I could smell was him. I pushed him away and vomited into the bushes. I didn’t see that guy again.”

Ryan chuckled humorlessly. “I pretty much swore off men after that. It….brought back too many memories.”

He bit his lip. As long as he was in a sharing mood….

“That’s why I can’t figure out how to feel about you. You remind me of him. All the danger, the magnetism, the charm. You’re all the good things about Jac. But you’re so different from him, too. It’s….jarring. I like you, or at least I’m pretty sure I do, but whenever a man touches me, all I can feel is him. I haven’t…tested it with you. Yet.”

Akmazian stayed silent for a few long moments, turning the unspoken invitation over in his mind. Finally, he said, “Does it feel bad if I…?”

Carefully, Akmazian placed his hand over Ryan’s. Ryan turned his hand palm-up, letting their fingers tangle together.

“No,” Ryan said slowly, genuinely surprised. It was strange— it felt _nice._ It felt real, like it was really Akmazian, not just a ghost of Jac.

 Akmazian nodded, withdrawing his hand. Ryan caught it, slotting their fingers together again, something warm lighting up his chest.

“Akmazian, I think…I think I’m okay. Can you touch me again? See if I’m still okay?”

Ryan didn’t even care how that sounded. Suddenly, knowing that Akmazian’s hands didn’t leave the phantom trace of Jac’s against his skin, he felt….wrong. Jac’s ghost had stayed too long. Ryan wanted him gone.

“Are you sure?” Akmazian asked. “Is this wise, Ryan?”

Ryan looked down at their entwined fingers. He explained the phantom touch the best he could, and asked if Akmazian would be willing to clear it away. Akmazian nodded quietly, obviously thinking it through.

“If this helps you, I’ll do it. But Ryan, you have to know—I won’t take kindly this if you want to forget this ever happened tomorrow. You need to know that my feelings for you are real.”

“I know. I know this sounds like a…. ridiculously late rebound, or like I’m using you or something. But I just…I want to be free of him. And I’m ready to move on. I’m ready to be with someone else. With you.”

Akmazian bowed his head. “Now, darlin’, how can I say no to that?”

Ryan took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Akmazian loosened his fingers from Ryan’s hold. “Now, tell me if anything….feels wrong.”

“I will,” Ryan said, breath bated in anticipation. Akmazian settled himself behind Ryan on the bed and slowly drifted his hand up and down his arm. He waited for Ryan to nod before moving on. His hands were soft, soothing against his skin. They trailed across Ryan’s shoulders, his chest, down his other arm. Ryan’s breath hitched and Akmazian stopped dead. Ryan shook his head. “I’m fine. It feels good.” Ryan thought for a moment. “Can you do my neck? He always kissed my neck.”

Akmazian’s hands went to his neck next, still slow and gentle. Ryan melted into the touch, murmuring under his breath. Cautiously, Akmazian’s lips touched the sensitive skin of Ryan’s neck. Ryan let out a deep breath, letting the weight and warmth of Akmazian wash away anything that lingered there. Akmazian ran his hands down Ryan’s back, feeling the scar that ran from the nape of his neck down to his tailbone. Nearly boneless with pleasure and relief, Ryan slumped down, his back against Akmazian’s chest, fitting comfortably between his legs. He tilted his head back so he could see Akmazian’s eyes looking down at him, amused and curious. Akmazian’s long black hair fell around his face, concealing him in a curtain of hair. It was strangely intimate. They held eye contact for a long moment.

“Will you kiss me?” Ryan whispered.

Akmazian let out a silent breath, saying nothing.

 “Isn’t this where you say a clever little quip?” Ryan asked. Akmazian shook his head, smiling when his hair brushed against Ryan’s cheeks.

“Not for this, darlin.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against Ryan’s. Ryan’s mind flashed back to back then, when he was the one leaning over Jac, their foreheads pressed together just like this. But when Akmazian’s lips closed over his, he finally felt the last traces of Jac disappear from his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title: the jacstory   
> (im sadhipstercat on tumblr come say hi!)  
> this story was very difficult but also therapeutic for me to write. i promise i will try to let up on the angst soon but i think i needed to write this


End file.
